Don't Move
by SupernaturallyEgocentric
Summary: I'm dipping my toe in the exquisitely murky WINCEST pool - can't resist. UPDATE: Think I'm going to have to change this description to EXTREME SLASH. Fell into the pool, head first. And LANGUAGE! Heh. COMPLETE. ANY FUTURE STORIES TO BE POSTED IN MY BOYS.
1. Don't Move

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"Don't move, brother." Dean moves in close, nuzzles Sam's neck. "Close your eyes, baby."

Breath quickening, pulses thrumming, Sam does as he is told.

Dean's tongue ghosts over his brother's lips and Sam shudders. "God_damn_, Sammy, your fucking _mouth_," Dean breaths. He slips his tongue into Sam's mouth, gives his tongue a little flicking caress.

Sam groans, arching his back. "_Dean_."

Dean smiles. "Sammy, I said _don't move_." His voice is a low growl and a shudder runs over Sam's body. "Please," he groans helplessly. "_God_."

Dean smiles again, leans in, takes his brother's mouth in his.

"Nah. Just me."


	2. Beer

It took less than an hour for Sam to find him. Typical beer joint - too much smoke, too many people, music too goddamned loud - typical Dean joint.

Glowering, Sam watched as his brother leaned over the honey-blonde young woman sitting at the bar, white teeth flashing in a wide grin, green eyes teasing. His eyes darkened as Dean's strong hand cupped the girl's chin, soft lips teased her mouth, and hard, muscled body crowded in, wrapped around her.

Sam started across the room toward them, six -foot-four of pissed-off Winchester, weaving quickly in and out of the crowd, not seeing anything but the pair at the bar. Seeing the look on his face, people started to move out of his way, and by the time he reached his brother, most of the room was watching.

Honey-Blonde smiled at Sam when he joined them. Sam smiled back at her, but it wasn't a nice smile, not at all, and she turned a little pale, and looked at Dean questioningly.

Dean glanced over at him casually. "Hey, Sammy, what's up?"

Growling, Sam jerked his brother roughly away from Honey-Blonde, pulled him in close and covered his mouth with his own. He sent his tongue in - no scouting mission, a full-out invasion, assaulting, conquering, raping.

There was dead silence in the room. Sam pulled out of Dean's mouth, leaving him gasping, and looked at Honey-Blonde, who was wide-eyed and gaping incredulously.

"Piss off," Sam said succinctly.

She turned and fled, not even waiting until she was out of the bar to burst into tears, which was fine with Sam. He patted Dean's hip possessively and turned to the slack-jawed bartender.

"Beer."

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	3. The Tease

He could feel Sam watching, scorching hazel eyes burning a hole in his back.

Dean laughed, a shiver of excitement curling in his belly. Not understanding, the girl still laughed with him. "What's so funny?"

"You'll see," he breathed into her ear, and felt her tremble.

Excitement shuddering through him, Dean cupped her chin in his hand, kissed her gently, felt her sigh into his mouth. He thought of Sam, watching them, and knew how it would be tonight.

Sam came up behind them, a solid wall of heat, anger and arousal. The girl smiled at him, then faltered, looking uncertainly back at Dean. Elated, trying to be casual, Dean looked over at his brother, noting the flushed face, the hard line of his mouth, the fires of hell eyes - his dick gave a quick throb of anticipation.

"Hey Sammy, what's happening?"

Growling, Sam yanked him away from the girl and pulled him in tight, covered Dean's mouth with his own. _Mine!_

Mission accomplished, Dean hummed contentedly as Sam's tongue plunged in and laid claim, taking away the taste of the girl and replacing it with his own.

Breathing hard, Sam pulled out and glared at the blonde. "Piss off."

Listening to the clatter of her retreating heels, the sound of her sobs as the bar door closed behind her, Dean smiled lazily at Sam, the tang of his brother in his mouth, and the thought of the long night ahead filling him.

Sam settled a possessive hand on Dean's hip, fingers splaying down over the top of his ass, turned him to face the bar.

"Beer."


	4. Benediction

BENEDICTION

It was a wonderful dream.

All sighs and groans and sucking; the warmth of someone's mouth around his dick, fingers stretching him, scratching deliciously across his prostate. Sam moaned, arched into the wet mouth, pressed greedily back down against the rough fingers, and then whined in protest when both were taken away.

A dirty chuckle brought him awake.

Groggily Sam lay still (_best fucking wet dream, ever),_ then gasped in surprise as Dean, lying between his thighs, took Sam's dick back into his mouth.

"What the _fuck _- "

Humming with pleasure, Dean took Sam's dick all the way down to the root, its blunt head tickling the back of his throat. Good God, so fucking _good, _he thought happily_. _

Screw his dad, screw hunting, screw _everything _- he was starting a new religion. Sammy's Sainted Dick. He was going to spend the rest of his fucking life with his mouth on his brother's beautiful prick.

Dean fucked his mouth up and down on Sam's dick, teeth scraping the sides, tongue beating an enthusiastic tattoo, the taste of his brother's exquisite tang filling his mouth.

Listening with satisfaction to Sam's hoarse groans, Dean thrust his index finger back into his brother's tight hole, followed quickly by a second finger, stroking the small cluster of sensitive nerves. Grinning fiercely as Sam writhed underneath him, he sent a third finger into the tight, wet darkness, and a fourth, pulling a hoarse choking cry out of his brother.

Growling, he pulled his mouth off of Sam's dick with a sloppy, sucking sound; spread his fingers wide inside him, twisting them, clawing, merciless. "How's that, Sammy? Does that do it for you? Come on, baby, tell me what you want!"

Eyes blind with lust and need, Sam bucked furiously up into Dean's mouth, ground back down against his punishing fingers. "Dean, _Jesus_, please, fuck, fuck me, I'm _dying_, Jesus, _please, fuck me -" _head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, Sam's voice trailed off into a series of choking sobs and whimpers.

His own dick throbbing furiously, absolutely fucking _loving _the sound of Sammy's wrecked voice, Dean pulled his fingers out and, rearing up, positioned himself at Sam's entrance. With one quick, brutal movement he thrust in, _all _the way in, _slammed _in, not stopping until his balls rested against Sam's ass.

At the assault, Sam screamed gutturally, eyes rolling back in his head, hands grasping weakly at Dean's hips, trying to pull his brother even closer. Lips peeled back from his teeth, eyes fixed on Sam's sweat-sheened face, Dean pulled almost all the way out, then roared back in again and again, a merciless, hungry rhythm, the sound of Sam's ragged gasps and pounding pulse filling him, driving him on.

His own firestorm was approaching, his balls tight and throbbing, pulling up between his legs. Grunting, supporting himself on the bed with one hand, keeping up his thrusting, pounding rhythm, he took Sam's swollen, leaking dick into his other hand and pumped it rhythmically up and down, running his nail across the slit and then into it, laughing as Sam's body convulsed at the fresh sensation.

With a desperate cry, Sam pulled Dean down, wrapping his arms and legs around him, pain and pleasure spiking as he fucked his tongue into Dean's mouth, matching the thrust of his brother's cock into his ass. Dean's hand around Sam's cock rode between their bellies, the heat and friction consuming them, sending them even closer to the edge.

"Come on, baby, come for me," Dean moaned into Sam's mouth. His thrusting pace increased, faster, harder, _harder_, changing up the tilt of his thrusts, hitting the prostate dead on with almost every hit, his own harsh cries mingling with Sam's. "Come on, baby, come for me, come for me, _oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_!"

Howling, exploding, Dean was coming, Sam right along with him, bodies pumping, clenching, grinding into each other, riding it out together, love and lust's benediction, white, ropy strings of Sam's cum streaking their colliding bellies, Dean's cock filling Sam's ass with the last of his sweet release. After an eternity, thrusts slowing, Dean collapsed onto his Sammy's chest and their mouths moved together, moaning, tongues twining, gasping, licking.

At last, his brother's dick gone soft inside him, Sam kissed Dean's forehead tenderly. 'Dean, God, love you so fucking _much." _

Dean darted his tongue back into Sam's mouth, licked it out, possessed it. _"Mine," _he breathed hoarsely.

Sam nodded, dark, sweat-soaked hair tangling across his face, hazel eyes brimming with love and tears. "Yours."

Dean laid his forehead against Sam's, sighed. "Forever."

"_Forever." _


	5. Chapter 5

Listen, making a change. Clearly, this is an AU, 'cause in the T.V. show there ain't no brotherly bonking going on. (Not _yet_, at least.) I'm going to be posting a new chapter every week to this AU, but I am changing the title to "My Boys". (Yes, yes, they're _your _boys, too.) See, when I wrote "Don't Move", I wasn't thinking in terms of expanding, just in drabbles, but now I am, big time. So I'm posting "Choices" today under "Don't Move", but then I'm changing the title of the collection to "My Boys" later this week. "Choices" is going to be moved to Chapter 1, because it definitely is, with chapters 1-4 following and many, many more to come. Wincest is addictive. Who knew!

If there's a better way to do it, I don't know it. Could have just started a new story, but want to keep all of them together. Anyway, wanted to give people who have alerts on "Don't Move" a heads-up, so if you want to keep up with this AU, you'll know to alert "My Boys." I hope that you do. I'm having a FREAKING good time writing it, and love sharing. Remember, Reviews are Orgasmic. (I'm thinking of having that tattooed on my ass.)

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CHOICES

"Sam?"

Sam spun around to face his father, hazel eyes wide and shocked.

John looked at the duffel slung over his son's shoulder. "Where you going?"

"What are _you _doing here?" Sam gasped.

"Hunt turned out to be a false alarm," John said, frowning, not missing the fact that Sam hadn't answered him. "Where are you going?"

Sam couldn't think of a single lie that his father would believe. Dropping the duffel, he ran for the front door, his father close behind him.

John caught him at the door. Sam tried to get around him, go for the kitchen door, but, cursing, John cuffed him on the side of the head, grabbed him by the arm and slammed him up against the door. "Knock it off!"

Panicking, Sam tried to jerk away from his father's hard hands. "Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down." John barked. His dark eyes were cold. "What the hell is going on?"

"Let me _go_."

"Where?" John said sharply. "Why?"

Sam looked into his father's eyes, saw both the man he'd loved and a man he feared deeply. "Where doesn't matter. And - " he hesitated, then took the plunge - "you _know _why."

John's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on his son's arm.

Heart pounding at the look in his father's eyes, Sam tried again. "Let me go."

John ignored him, jerking him away from the door and pulling him back toward the kitchen.

Frantic now, Sam struggled harder, finally managing to tear himself out of John's hands. Growling, the big man hit him again and Sam lost his balance, falling to the floor.

John reached down to pull him up, his face set and angry and Sam pulled his .45 out of his jacket.

"Don't you fucking touch me!"

John gaped at the gun. "Son -"

"Don't call me that! Get back!"

Seeing the way the gun was shaking in his terrified son's hands, John took a couple of steps back, watched as Sam rose. "We need to talk."

Sam shook his head fiercely. "There's nothing to talk about. Not anymore. " He gestured to the couch. "Go sit down."

John didn't move.

"_Now_!"

Cautiously eying the gun, John backed up until the back of his legs hit the worn couch, dropped down onto it.

"I know what you were planning," Sam said furiously. "I _know_."

"You don't know a damned thing," John answered warily. "You're sick, you must be to point a gun at your own father."

"You liar!" Sam spat. "How were you going to explain it to Dean? 'Sorry, son, Sammy just didn't work out. Gimme a minute while I put a bullet in his head?'"

Shocked, John stammered, "Sam, I would _never _-"

"Don't _lie_!" Sam screamed.

The kitchen door slammed and Dean's voice called out. "Hey, Dad! You back already?"

Sam turned white. _Oh God, no, not this. I don't want to tell him, please I don't want to tell him._

Dean appeared in the doorway, grinning. His grin vanished when he saw Sam pointing a gun at their father. "_Sam_?"

Relieved, John started up from the couch. "Dean -"

"Stay there!" Sam warned him, breathing ragged, and his father dropped back down, scowling. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will!"

"Sam?" Dean's eyes tracked between his father and brother, fastened on his seemingly hysterical brother. "What the hell is going on?"

Sam looked at him pleadingly. "Dean –"

"He's leaving," John said bluntly.

"_What?"_ All the color left Dean's face. His green eyes were stricken, voice shaking. "Sammy, _no_."

Sam's mouth trembled. "Dean - I - please."

"Sam, _why_? I don't understand –"

"It doesn't matter why he's leaving, Dean," John interrupted. "You can't let him. You need to get hold of this situation _right now_."

Dean waved his father to silence. "Sam, tell me what's wrong -"

"_Dean _-" John started to stand again.

Sam fired a shot into the floor at John's feet. Dean cried out and the older man fell back onto the couch with a curse. "Are you insane?" he cried. "What are you doing, son?"

The smell of cordite was thick in the air. "Don't _call _me that!" Sam said tightly. "I'm not your son. Not anymore."

"Sam, what the fuck!" Dean said furiously. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam laughed wildly. "A lot! Nothing I can fix, that's for sure." Dean sighed and Sam's eyes darkened with pain. "Yeah, I know, same old shit, huh? Sick of it, aren't you? Sick of me."

Dean looked at him, shook his head. "No, Sam. Not sick of you." Their eyes locked and Sam's throat tightened. He looked away with difficulty, glared at his father. "It's _not_ my fault that Mom died."

John glared at him. "Don't you talk about her."

Flabbergasted, Dean said, "Dad, what - Sam, it wasn't your fault, why would you think –"

"_Dad_ thinks that!"

"That's not true," Dean protested. "I don't know where you're getting this, Sammy, it's crazy. Put the gun down, we can talk about it, figure it out –"

"Just take the damned gun away from him, Dean!" John yelled angrily. "He won't shoot _you_, get over there and -"

"Damn it, the demon told me everything!" Sam shouted desperately into the chaos.

"What?" Both John and Dean spoke together.

Sam's breathing was fast, eyes fastened imploringly on his brother. "He's been coming to me in my dreams the last few weeks. He showed me what happened. He fed me his blood the night Mom died. Demon blood!"

Dean stared at him, horrified, and Sam's heart broke. _Oh God. He hates me now. I knew it. I knew it. _"I'm sorry," he whispered. The pistol wavered.

John started to rise and Sam jerked the gun back onto him. "Don't you fucking move!" he warned, finger twitching spasmodically on the trigger.

"I don't understand," Dean stammered. "Why - demon blood? _Why_?"

"It's not just me." Sam swallowed. "He did the same thing to lots of other kids." A single tear ran down his cheek. "We're his weapons; some kind of stupid evil army." He shook his head. "God, that sounds so _crazy_."

"That's because it _is _crazy, Sam," Dean said impatiently. "That demon is playing you, trying to freak you out. Besides, that doesn't explain why you're trying to leave. And the gun."

Sam's eyes were bleak. "The demon told me – Dad's going to kill me."

"Demons lie, Sam!" Dean said, outraged. "Dad would never hurt you. _Never_!"

"That's what I thought." Sam looked bitterly at John. "Then he told me about Dad's secret journal."

John flinched.

"What secret journal?" Dean asked, baffled. "I've never seen –"

"_Secret _journal, Dean." "I found it in his truck before he left last night." With his free hand he dug into his jacket pocket, took out a small, black notebook and tossed it in Dean's direction.

Dean snagged it in mid-air, looking at it curiously before looking at his father. John kept his eyes on his youngest son, on the gun.

"Turn to the last entry," Sam said. He looked at John, lost love and rage battling in his heart for ascendance.

Dean thumbed the notebook open. Hands trembling, he read the last entry. Re-read it. He looked at his father disbelievingly. "_Dad_?"

John looked at his lieutenant stonily. "Dean, you have to understand. This isn't something I _want _to do_. _Sam is my son. I love him, just as much as I love you."

Sam laughed; it turned into a ragged sob. "Yeah, right. You fucking liar. _God_, I _hate _you for this. Why couldn't you believe in me? Why couldn't you love - " Heart shredded, he looked away from his father's rigid face, drew a deep breath.

_I can't take much more of this. Of him._

"I have two choices," Sam said to Dean. "Leave, or die."

Dean shuddered at the desolate look in Sam's eyes, the shaking gun. "Don't. _Don't_."

Sam tried to smile, failed miserably. "it's been bad for a long time. No matter what I do, it's never good enough and it never will be. He's always watching me, waiting for me to turn. And now that I know . . ." He shrugged, fought himself back to a shaky semblance of control. "I'm sorry, brother."

Dean took a quick step forward, eyes. "Sam." When his brother stumbled back a step, Dean stopped. "Sam," he said pleadingly. "Baby, _please_."

John looked at Dean, confused. _Baby_?

Shaking, Sam said, "I would _never _let myself be used by that demon, no matter what Dad thinks."

"I know you wouldn't, Sam." Dean moved forward again, desperate to get the gun away from him, to take that defeated look out of his eyes. "I raised you."

Tears spilling over, not wanting to hope, but unable to stop himself, Sam let his brother, his lover, approach.

John watched closely, ready to make his move.

Sam saw John's eyes, knew he thought that Dean would back him - Dad's good little soldier. And maybe he would.

Close now, Dean put a hand on Sam's arm, touched his cheek gently.

Sam stared into his heart's eyes and a kaleidoscope of memories filled him, warmed him – Dean holding his hand on the way to school; Dean bathing him, tucking him into bed at night. Teaching him to shoot, sparring with him. Teasing, smiling, laughing. Staring into his eyes with love and lust. Fucking him, _loving _him.

And always - _always_ - standing between him and danger.

The hell with it. If Dean could betray him, Sam wanted to be dead anyway.

He let Dean take the gun.

John surged up off the couch, dark eyes burning with satisfaction, which lasted just until Dean swung around and stuck the .45 into his father's face.

"You son-of-a-_bitch_! You were going to _kill _him?"

Looking into Dean's furious eyes, John knew he'd somehow seriously misjudged the situation. Knew he was in even more danger now than when Sam had the gun.

"Dean, you know what's at stake," he forced out. "It's not just Sam's life. It's six billion people. It's the _world_."

Dean looked into Sam's eyes, then back at his father. "Fuck the world." He shoved John roughly back onto the couch.

Then, his father watching, Dean pulled Sam to him and kissed him - tender, ardent and possessive.

No more hiding, not from anyone.

John's mouth dropped open; his eyes filled with horror.

Trembling violently, Sam clutched at Dean's shoulders, relief, love and terror storming through him.

Dean smiled at him. "Hold it together, baby. We're not out of here yet."

Sam looked at John. The man's face was livid with rage as he stared at his sons. "He'll follow us."

"We'll deal with that when it happens," Dean said reassuringly. "I'm not letting him hurt you."

Sam smiled. The sweetness of it almost brought Dean to his knees. He kissed him again, lightly. "Go to our room, pack up my stuff, and anything of yours you don't already have. Go on, _hurry_!" Sam nodded and ran from the room. "Don't forget the sawed-off in the closet!"

Beyond caution now, John roared up from the couch. "What the _hell_? How long have you been fucking that little bastard?"

"Dad -"

"Is a little ass all it took to make you forget who you are? _What _you are?"

"Shut up, Dad!" Dean gritted out warningly.

"God _damn _it!' John hissed virulently. "I should have killed that boy when he was born, before he infected _you _with his poison."

Dean slammed the gun hard into his father's head, dropping him unconscious and bleeding to the floor. "I guess you'll shut up now, you crazy bastard," he said coldly.

Two minutes later, Sam came quickly back into the room, Dean's duffel in one hand and the sawed-off in the other, boxes of cartridges bulging from his jacket pockets. After one quick glance, he didn't look at his father again "Anything else?"

"Got a knife?"

Sam made a face, pulled a knife out of his boot. "Duh."

Dean grinned, gave Sam the keys to the Impala. "Smart ass. Put our stuff in the car. Then take care of his tires. I'll be out in a minute."

When Dean came out, John's truck was sitting on four rapidly deflating tires and the Impala was idling, Sam waiting anxiously in the front seat.

Sam scooted across the seat to him and hugged his brother tightly, breathing in the familiar scents of leather, tobacco, sweat - _deanmydean_.

"Listen, Sam -"

Sam interrupted him quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Hey, I get it, I do," Dean reassured him. "We're good. But the next time a psychotic asshole tries to kill you, let me know, okay?"

"Okay." Sam looked back at the house. "Um . . ."

"Hog-tied," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Take him a couple hours to get out of it."

"Good," Sam said, relieved.

Dean guided the Impala out of the parking lot and they merged into traffic.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

Dean looked over at him, smiling faintly. "Does it matter?"

Hazel eyes gazed into green. "Not one damned bit."


	6. Don't Move  Morph

Okay, wanted to let you-all know that to keep reading this series, you need to click on "My Boys."

Changing the title, because what started as drabble and what-not has now morphed into a full-fledged series and the old title, "Don't Move", is no longer appropriate. Was going to just change the title, but wasn't sure if people who alerted the story would still be alerted to the new title. Sorry for any confusion!

FYI, I'm re-posting "Choices" as the first chapter on "My Boys". Chapter Two is "Just a Little Friendly Torture." Brand new, just finished today. My plan is to have a new chapter up every weekend.

Many thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing.


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